As one, we rise

Rising from a pew lined with dog-eared copies of the King James Bible, Elder John D. Harris turns to address a small congregation of mothers, fathers and children.

Alex Breitler

Rising from a pew lined with dog-eared copies of the King James Bible, Elder John D. Harris turns to address a small congregation of mothers, fathers and children.

It is a warm spring evening outside, and even warmer inside, but the people listen as Harris reminds them of a certain Scripture which they probably already know.

And Jesus answering said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.

And by chance there came down a certain priest that way; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.

And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.

But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was; and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.

Harris, 62, delivered his first sermon in 2001. "I heard the Spirit say, 'It's time,'" he said. He was ordained three years later and today serves at the Greater White Rose Church of God in Christ, on South Pilgrim Street.

But his ministry spreads far beyond the pulpit. Harris's church is one of 24 involved in People and Congregations Together, which - despite doctrinal differences among its Christian, Hmong, Buddhist and Hindu members - recognizes some basic beliefs held in common. Namely, that the least among us should be lifted up.

How? Many local experts and advocates say addressing Stockton's problems with crime, poverty and education will require mobilizing the entire community. In past years, Mayor Ann Johnston has called for volunteers to fill the black hole left by budget cuts.

Harris knows what it's like to benefit from those who serve. He grew up as a boy in the projects at Sierra Vista. Adults from outside the neighborhood organized camping trips through the local YMCA; the children were taken places they might never otherwise have seen.

One kindly volunteer piled the kids into a station wagon and took them to Yosemite. Decades later Harris has forgotten the man's name, but not his friendship.

"He wasn't the only one," Harris said. "There were others who gave themselves volunteering to the people."

In those days people were willing to venture outside of what was comfortable for them, he said. To neighborhoods they didn't know, to meet people they weren't familiar with. To help people who, like the Samaritan and the Jew, might otherwise be enemies.

"Over the years we kind of just lost that," Harris said.

J.C. Fox, father of six and foster father of six more, coaches basketball on Tuesday and Friday nights at the gym behind the Dorothy L. Jones Community Center, by Williams Brotherhood Park, in one of Stockton's roughest neighborhoods.

The gym doors open at 5 p.m. Just when you think there is nowhere for neighborhood children to go but out onto the streets, they begin trickling through the doors and onto the basketball court.

Fox sits in the stands and barks at his team as it runs through drills. Keep those knees up. Move those feet.

"You see those kids coming in here," he says. "They could be out doing something else. Drinking, rolling dice ... But they're too tired to do anything when they get out of here."

Given his role as a foster parent, Fox could argue that he's too tired to show up in the first place. But he volunteers in part because he was once lifted up by others.

Fox remembers well a trip to Death Valley organized through the YMCA by John Flaherty, a teacher at Franklin High School. They spent nights out in the desert. He saw a scorpion, a pretty cool thing for a kid from Stockton. On the way home they played in the snow atop the Sierra Nevada.

Flaherty, who died of cancer in 1981, was recognized repeatedly for his community outreach alongside his wife, Marjorie.

"He said, 'I'm not going to look up their backgrounds. I'm not going to look at each kid and say, "Gosh, you're the son of a nutty drunk or you're the one whose parents left you." I'm going to deal with those kids right where they are because that's how life is,' " said Marjorie Flaherty, who still lives in Stockton.

Some of the John Flahertys of the world are gone. But not all of them.

Francisco Ortiz came to the United States eight years ago. He spoke little English, and it was hard to communicate with the teachers of his children.

Many parents in similar situations avoid that interaction altogether, Ortiz believes, and without it, their children are at greater risk of dropping out.

So he went to other parents. He helped organize the Lincoln Latin Leadership. Now there are workshops for parents, there are Las Posadas Christmas celebrations, and field trips to check out colleges. This summer, the University of the Pacific hosted a bridge program to help students learn how to apply for and get financial aid.

For helping his own children - and so many others - Ortiz was named Father of the Year last year by the advocacy group Fathers and Families of San Joaquin.

The mobilizing of the masses didn't happen overnight.

"If you invite them, maybe next time three show up. Next time four. Maybe next time five," Ortiz said. "They say, 'I have no time.' I have no time either, but I need to do something."

At Stockton Unified School District, parent Eric Merlo was recognized for volunteering more hours than anyone else last year. That's 1,560 hours, the district says, adding that with dwindling budgets it's going to need more involvement from parents.

Credit Merlo's award to the annual Science Olympiad, a time-intensive event for both parents and students. It takes a lot of planning, after all, to build those homemade hot air balloons and water rockets.

"It's carting kids around, providing food, getting study materials, coaching, teaching them how to use tools," Merlo said. His garage was converted to a workshop.

Merlo's role - and the role of other Franklin parents - became more crucial with the departure of a teacher who had coordinated the event in the past.

"It was important I step in. There were other parents who helped, too," he said.

At the People and Congregations Together meeting at the church, Harris exhorts school officials to help parents get involved. Not just getting to know the teachers, not just helping out with homework, but getting involved in policy and curriculum decisions, too.

He goes back to his discussion of the Good Samaritan.

Three things were missing when the priest and the Levite passed by the injured man, Harris believes: identifying with the need, relating with the need, and meeting the need.

Stockton, Harris says, has failed to fulfill even that first step.

Privately, some observers wonder: Where is the outrage? Where is the community concern over the wailing ambulances, the crime scene tape, the kids on the street, the single mother with five small children?

"You see rundown neighborhoods and kids with no direction," Harris said. "You identify it right there. But to identify with it, you say, 'What do we do?' "

There is, after all, a call to action at the end of the parable of the Good Samaritan, posed by Jesus to his disciple:

Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbor unto him that fell among the thieves?